You know, I thought I was over the trauma, but when I read Kaffy's post about her recital and the accordion god who played at it, well, it all came back to me--the pain, the humiliation, the aching sense of loss.

Yep, I am the one.

The only woman my age born in Southwestern Ontario who cannot Polka. There. I've said it. Actually, let's not stop at the Polka. I can't dance, period, but it was the Polka that made that most abundantly clear to me.

When I was a kid almost all weddings had a live band, and in that band would be an accordion player because, well, what's a wedding without the Polka?

Sheesh. Don't tell me you haven't been to a wedding where the Polka ruled? Neonates, I'm surrounded by neonates ...

Everyone danced at these things and often adults would grab kids and teach them the steps.

Lord have mercy on the poor misguided souls who tried to teach me. Let's see, that happened in the early '60's, so if any of them survived the actual Polka lesson, then their feet have probably healed by now ...

Gamely, they would haul my gawky pre-teen derri�re out on to the dance floor. They would demonstrate the polka step, not realizing that they were dealing with someone with no brain-foot co-ordination at all. None.

Turn on music and I'm reduced to the most basic lower brain stem functions. I would stumble, trip, trip my partner up, and just generally muck up the swirling whorls of folks who knew what they were doing. Pitiful.

Lasting a whole tune with me was the equivalent of bronco riding at a rodeo. I soon got a rep and gradually I was left in peace. Then, mercifully, wedding music changed to reflect the tastes of the people getting married and not their parents.

By the time I entered my teens and high school, dancing was a lot more free form and my spasmodic flailing was tolerated. During slow dancing I covered up the problem by clinging leach like to my partner and rocking gently. Oh, the subterfuge, the lies, the shame!

I have absolutely no sense of rhythm. None. I'm going to donate my brain to science because surely there's something intrinsically wrong here, and it should be documented. I can see it now. (Cue time travel music here.)

Medical Researcher #1, entering room with cooler, says to Medical Researcher #2, "The Marn brain came in, the one we're using for the People Unable To Chew Gum and Walk at the Same Time Study."

They open the cooler, peer in, and a look of mourning crosses their faces. "Look at that tiny brain, it's so sad when a child dies." Then they look at the accompanying form and realize I was an adult ... oopsie!

Yep, I can see it now.

As you can well imagine, the trauma of my youth left me with an acute accordion phobia. It wasn't until 1984 that I overcame this crippling problem, largely due to the Shmenge Brothers and their rousing video "Power to the Punk People (Polka)".

For some odd reason it's fallen out of MTV rotation. Go figure. If you happen to see "The Last Polka", in your local TV listings (the rockumentary about this cult group) don't miss it. It's very silly.

You know, I've said to Paul more than once that Yosh Shmenge looks remarkably like John Candy.

Always had a soft spot for that Candy guy and I kept hoping that someone would give him another script as good as "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" so he could show how wonderful he really could be.

Darn. Now I'll be humming The Flintstones' theme song all day.